by Jules Wake
Chapter Twenty-Two
Judith
As the three of them climbed into Evelyn’s big fancy car, their excitement reminded Judith of the childhood treat of going to her aunt’s house during Rosh Hashanah when all their friends and neighbours would get together.
‘I’ve never been in a car before,’ squealed Betty. ‘These seats! Look! They’re leather. Gosh, this is ever so posh.’
‘Are you all right to sit in the back, Betty?’ asked Evelyn, turning round to look at her before they set off.
‘Oh lawks, yes. I can wave to people and pretend I’m the Queen or one of the Princesses.’
Judith slid into the front seat next to Evelyn and they exchanged a quick private smile as Betty continued to enthuse from the back, even though Judith herself was just as excited, if more reserved about it.
She watched as Evelyn settled into the driving seat, nestling her bottom into place like a broody hen, and checked the mirror at the front before starting the engine, the sound of which vibrated through the car in a growly big-cat sort of purr.
‘I’ve never been in a car before either,’ Judith volunteered to Evelyn, watching the countryside speed past, the hedgerows blurring already. ‘It’s fast, isn’t it?’
Evelyn laughed. ‘You’ve not seen anything yet. I daren’t go too fast on these little country lanes but when we get to the main road, I’ll give her her head. You’ll see. It’s not called horsepower for nothing.’
‘How far are we going?’ Judith knew that Evelyn lived in a small village outside Henley on Thames, which had meant nothing to her until her roommate had fetched a map from the Officers’ Mess and given her a quick geography lesson about Britain.
‘It’s about twenty miles. So not too far, although if I hadn’t got the Colonel’s permission, we wouldn’t have been allowed to come.’ They were delivering some papers to an office in High Wycombe which was on the way, and therefore ensured that the trip constituted official business enabling them to make use of the car.
‘How long will it take?’
‘About an hour, so we’ll be back in plenty of time to go on duty, I promise.’
Although Judith spent much of her off-duty with Walther (last week they’d been to the cinema in Chesham and had a very precarious journey back in the dark – they couldn’t use lights on their borrowed bicycles because of the blackout), she’d been looking forward to this day out with the other two girls and had swapped her off-duty to make sure that she could come with them. Much as she enjoyed exploring the surrounding area, she was ready to spread her wings a little and enjoy a complete change of scene. She was getting quite adventurous. Next week, she and Walther were working late shifts and planned to go to London early one morning to queue for one of the lunch-time concerts at the National Gallery, which she was very excited about. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if they saw Dame Myra Hess?
‘You look happy,’ observed Evelyn.
‘Sorry.’
‘You don’t have to apologise for being happy.’
There were so many people in such desperate situations but she couldn’t deny that happiness had started to feature in her life again, like a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis, although without the bright, gaudy wings. Her life had brightened beyond belief in the last three months, gone from being a dull shade of brown to clear blue with splashes of colour. She had friends, good colleagues and Walther. She still couldn’t believe that she deserved his quiet, devoted attention or that being with him made her heart beat faster.
As if reading her mind, Evelyn said, ‘So how are things with Walther? You two seem to spend a lot of time together.’
‘He’s a very nice man.’
‘A very nice man,’ hooted Betty from the back, leaning forward to put her head between the two front seats like a friendly dog. ‘He adores you. I’ve seen his whole face change when you walk into the Sergeants’ Mess. Elsie reckons there’ll be wedding bells before long.’
Judith blushed scarlet. ‘I-I don’t know about that.’
‘Well, he seems pretty keen,’ observed Evelyn.
‘We get on well. We have lots to talk about. We have a lot in common, that’s all.’
Betty rolled her eyes. ‘Seriously, Judith, what about him whispering sweet nothings in your ear?’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said, not quite understanding the English phrase, or rather pretending not to.
‘Yes, you do,’ crowed Betty from the back. ‘Has he kissed you?’
‘Betty,’ reproved Evelyn before turning, taking her eyes off the road, arching her eyebrows at Judith with the same question.
Judith’s brain flopped forwards and backwards, trying to decide what to answer. Part of her desperately wanted their advice and the other part was terrified that they might judge her. She’d never really had girlfriends before. She’d always kept herself to herself and in a dormitory with twenty-four other women, it had been easy to fade into the background. Here she didn’t seem to have a choice. Taking a breath, she glanced at both of them.
‘Should I let him?’ she asked in a small voice, as if that would excuse her when they both said no in shocked horror.
‘Yes,’ said Evelyn. ‘If you like him.’
To Evelyn’s and Judith’s surprise, Betty spoke with unexpected vehemence. ‘No! Only if you want him to. Don’t let him if you don’t want to. I hate it when Bert kisses me. It’s horrible. I don’t know why anyone really likes kissing. It’s all right in the movies but in real life, I don’t think so.’
‘But it can be wonderful with the right man,’ said Evelyn, her beautiful face turning a little pink. ‘Although perfectly beastly with a brute.’ She looked in the mirror on the dashboard and Judith saw her exchange a look with Betty. ‘How does it make you feel, Judith? How does being with Walther make you feel?’
Judith paused to give it some serious thought, conscious of Betty concentrating on her with almost ferocious interest, almost as if she would leap in front of her to save her if she needed it. She didn’t. Just the thought of Walther brought a smile to her face and set off the effervescent champagne bubbles of happiness popping in her stomach. ‘He makes me feel special. That I’m really important and that he’ll do anything to make me happy. It’s a lovely feeling.’ She wasn’t sure Betty would be so interested if she also confided that they could talk for hours about art and music, especially music.
Betty sighed. ‘Then that is like in the movies. I always wondered. So Evelyn, do you have a boyfriend? What happened to the picture by your bed?’
Judith, in the front, saw Evelyn stiffen and her hands tighten on the steering wheel.
‘Oh no, I’m sorry,’ Betty’s apology tumbled out. ‘I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry, he’s not dead, is he?’
‘Yes,’ said Evelyn. ‘No. I don’t know. We… It’s complicated.’
‘You mean he’s MIA.’
Judith watched Evelyn’s lips frame one answer and then change her mind. It was as if she couldn’t bring herself to lie even though she wanted or needed to.
‘He’s a prisoner of war,’ she said eventually and sat up straighter as if she were relieved to have been able to tell the truth, although something told Judith there was more to it than that. It wasn’t like Evelyn to equivocate. Judith had learned she was the sort of person who always told the truth, she was fearless and forthright and even on such a short acquaintance, Judith knew that she had a strict code of honour and a strong desire to do the right thing. Living in such close proximity the way that they did, you quickly came to know people. She smiled to herself. And they came to know you too.
An hour later, they pulled up outside a golden stone mansion house, with dozens of small-paned windows and well-trained creepers climbing up the wall around the big porch. Although a grand, handsome house, it also had a squat solidity about it as if it had taken root in the landscape and would not be budged. Leaving Judith with Betty trailing behind, both avidly drinking in the grandeur of the place, Evelyn s
ailed in through the big front door, decorated with jewel-bright stained-glass panels, calling, ‘Toodle-ooh, Mummy. We’re here.’
A small, wisp-like version of Evelyn came through a door at the end of the big, light, airy hallway, wiping her hands on an apron tied around her waist which protected a beautiful flower-print dress that fitted her perfectly and showed off the tiniest, well-corseted waist. She made Judith feel lumpish and bovine next to her.
‘Darling, you’re here. And these must be your friends.’
‘This is Betty.’
Betty stepped forward and did a quick bob, almost a curtsy, which Evelyn’s mother ignored. Instead, with the most charming smile, she held out her hand. ‘How lovely to meet you and who does your hair? It’s simply divine.’ And in one sentence she’d put Betty at ease immediately, before turning to Judith. ‘And you must be Judith. Evelyn’s told me such a lot about both of you in her letters.’ In fluent German she added that she was most welcome and it was super that she could come today.
‘Now, girls, I bet you’re starving. Mrs Dawtry has been looking forward to feeding you all week, she gets so little chance to show off her skills, these days. She’s been baking all morning.’
‘Sorry.’ Evelyn grinned at them both. ‘Mummy still thinks of me and my brother as teenagers that need constant feeding.’
‘Darling, don’t tell me you’re well fed at your posting. That will be a first.’
‘Actually, Mrs Brooke-Edwards, we are,’ said Betty earnestly.
‘Oh, call me Vivienne, darling,’ she said, tucking her arm through Betty’s and giving her a dazzling smile. ‘I don’t think we need to stand on ceremony.’ Judith could see exactly where Evelyn got her easy manners from. Her mother was definitely what you’d call a lady.
Evelyn raised an amused eyebrow at Judith, a twinkle in her eye, and the two of them followed her mother and Betty through to a glasshouse at the back of the house. Judith stopped to stare up at the high-arched walls of windows and the ornate finials on top of the roof. She’d never been inside such a beautiful place and immediately thought that Walther, who appreciated every sort of architecture, would absolutely love it. She tried to store up the details of the elegant rattan and bent-cane furniture, the pointed arches of the wrought-iron structure and the proliferations of glossy leaved plants in huge stoneware containers, so that she could tell him all about it later. She was too shy to ask what this room was called in English but she didn’t need to worry, Betty had no such inhibitions.
‘Oh Vivienne, this is lovely. Is that a real lemon? I’ve never been in a glasshouse before.’
‘It’s an orangery. It stays lovely and warm so that we can grow these lovely exotics. Hodges, our gardener, isn’t keen. He says, “It ent natural.”’ Vivienne mimicked a country voice. ‘He’d far rather be out with his smelly compost heaps and root vegetables but we can grow cucumbers, tomatoes and oranges in here. Of course, I have to rely on Mrs Dawtry to remind me to water everything now that Evelyn’s not here. She’s the one who loves grubbing about with plants and things. She’s very good at arranging flowers.’
Evelyn rolled her eyes behind her mother’s back and Betty had to turn away to hide her laugh.
‘Thank you, Mummy.’
‘Well, you aren’t terribly good at anything else domestic. I don’t suppose either of you knit?’
‘Don’t answer that,’ said Evelyn with a grin. ‘Mummy will have you knitting for the merchant seamen.’ But it was too late. Betty, with her usual enthusiasm, said:
‘Judith can. She made that jumper and I can crochet. I made this,’ and to everyone’s surprise she lifted her jumper to reveal a pale-blue crochet bra.
‘You made that?’ said Evelyn, moving close to inspect it, whereas Judith averted her eyes.
‘Yes. I don’t want to wear out my Army-issue corset.’
‘I get mine renovated at a place on Baker Street in town. It only costs twelve shillings and sixpence.’
Betty beamed. ‘This only cost me a shilling to make. And I embroidered my cami-knickers to match.’
‘It’s lovely,’ said Vivienne, not even batting an eyelid at Betty’s impromptu reveal.
‘I think I might have to ask you to make me one,’ said Evelyn, reaching out and fingering the strap. ‘That is very pretty.’
‘Easy. You can get two bras from three balls of Coats Mercer crochet cotton.’
‘Make three, we can all have matching bras,’ said Evelyn gaily.
‘Or I can teach you how to make one,’ said Betty.
‘Good luck with that,’ said Vivienne, laughing. ‘Oh, Mrs Dawtry. What perfect timing. This is my absolute treasure, Mrs D.’
Mrs D was a handsome woman, with broad shoulders, big hands and an impish smile with two currant eyes in a doughy face. She shook her head as she put down a china-laden tray. ‘You do go on, Mrs Vivienne. Hello, Evelyn, ducks, and Evelyn’s friends. I’ve made some shortbread because we got a bit of butter from the farm this week. They liked our lemons, they did.’
After encouraging the three of them to enjoy their tea, the housekeeper said she had work to do and that Vivienne could help her, and they both disappeared back into the house.
Mrs Dawtry’s shortbread was a rare treat indeed. Judith savoured hers, nibbling at it to make it last. Betty snapped her piece in half and took a big bite, chewing with clear blissful enjoyment, while Evelyn ate hers in neat crisp bites with her usual serene expression. It made Judith smile, each of them true to their personalities even in the business of biscuit eating.
Betty suddenly jumped up and made her way over to the thicket of foliage on the far side of the room. ‘An orange! Gawd, I haven’t seen one of those for a while.’
‘Take one,’ said Evelyn with a blithe wave of her hand.
‘Are you sure?’ asked Betty, her big blue eyes widening with wonder at this unexpected treat. ‘My little sister would love it. If you drop me in the village on the way home, I could give it to her then.’
‘Of course. Mummy won’t mind.’
They finished their tea and Evelyn suggested they go through to her sitting room and Judith realised just how big the house was as Evelyn announced the rooms as they passed: ‘The salon, the dining room, Daddy’s office, Mummy’s sitting room and through there,’ she pointed at a big green door standing open, ‘is the kitchen and Mrs Dawtry’s housekeeping office. I think Mummy spends most of her time in there these days. I suppose it’s lonely living her on her own. She and Mrs D are as thick as thieves these days. I think the two of them are running the village and running rings around the poor Vicar.’ Turning to Betty she added, ‘Sadly, we don’t have any secret passages. I think David, my brother, and I would have loved that. Do you think anyone else at Latimer House knows they’re there?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Betty. ‘Elsie might, but no one else from the old staff works there now and before the war, Elsie would have been a visitor, as she was the Vicar’s sister, so I can’t see as how she would know.’
‘It can be our secret then,’ said Evelyn, leading them into another bright sunny room with French windows leading out to the garden, which once might have been a lawn but now contained row upon row of heaped soil and what looked like potato plants.
‘Oh! You’ve got a gramophone player.’ Betty darted across the room and began leafing through the piles of 78s on the side. ‘Can we put some music on? Please.’ Judith was more interested in the upright piano on the other side of the room next to a shelf of what looked like sheet music.
With a laugh Evelyn said, ‘Help yourself. Most of them are my brother’s. He loves his music, especially jazz.’
‘I only know classical music,’ said Judith a touch defensively, that familiar sense of being out on the sidelines creeping in as Betty began holding up the record sleeves.
‘Duke Ellington, Bing Crosby – oh, I love “White Christmas”. The Andrews Sisters. Oh, you’ve got “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy”. And Glenn Miller. Let’s have “In the M
ood”. Everyone loves that.’ She whirled round, even more animated than usual, and Judith didn’t like to admit that she didn’t know any of those tunes. She’d led quite a sheltered life in Berlin and her father hadn’t really approved of anything other than classical music even though her aunt had worked in the clubs. Judith wondered whether, had her bohemian aunt not died, she herself might have had a different outlook on life; perhaps been a little more adventurous in her music tastes and a bit less dull. Next to the other two women she was quite the dowd in her regulation ATS shoes and underwear, although thanks to Betty she was wearing her hair in a much more flattering style, even if it did take a bit of work. If the warm appreciation in Walther’s eyes was anything to go by, it was worth it.
‘Anyone want to dance?’ asked Betty, already winding up the gramophone with one hand and holding the record in her other.
‘Why not?’ said Evelyn, kicking off her shoes and pushing one of the sofas back to the wall.
The record crackled and Betty scrambled out of her own shoes and then the music began. It was a popular tune and although she hadn’t known the name or the artist, it was familiar to Judith. It was one of those that was often on the radio in the background, or other girls had played it on their portable gramophones. She’d heard it a dozen times before but this was the first time she sat and listened to it properly, and her feet began to twitch at the catchy music. Although it was so different to the music she’d always played, she was quickly entranced by the rhythmic beat, the sparkiness of the brass notes diving in and driving home, and the underlying melody all the way through. Her fingers itched to track the notes on a piano. She was astounded by the dexterity that would be needed to play something like this and longed to give it a try.