by John R McKay
‘Yes my dear, I remember,’ replied Edwina calmly. ‘I remember that day as if it was only yesterday. That poor girl lying there.’ The similarities of that day to what she was witnessing now were not lost on Edwina. A helpless woman lying suffering in her bed.
‘Please fetch my journal,’ said Victoria. ‘It’s at the bottom of the wardrobe over there, in a hat box.’ She indicated to the corner of the room. ‘Can you also fetch the box that Georgina gave me? I have kept it on top. It’s pushed to the back. I was going to give it to Gregory when he was on leave, but then he was captured.’
As Edwina retrieved the items, Victoria smiled to herself. Gregory was still alive. He may not be safe and well, she had no way of knowing that, but at least he was still alive.
She took the journal from Edwina’s hand and opened it. ‘Can you get me a pen please, Eddie, I need to make an entry.’
Edwina placed the box with John’s things on the bed at the side of her and left her to find a pen. Victoria opened the box.
She had never once looked inside it, believing that this was for Gregory and for Gregory alone. The things inside were private and she felt, over the years, that what was contained within the box was none of her business. However, with what Alexander had let slip, and the fact that Gregory was incarcerated for the foreseeable future, she decided that it was not so much of an intrusion now.
Inside the box, on the top, were the framed photographs that Edwina had placed inside so many years ago. Pictures of John, Georgina and Gregory as a baby. She smiled once more, with sadness and regret, at the family that were destined never to be together due to circumstances and the horrors of the previous war.
As she looked at the photographs the first bombs began to land outside. The blackout curtains had already been closed but Victoria could picture in her mind what would be happening. Searchlights criss-crossing the night sky in search of the Heinkels and Dorniers to give the anti-aircraft gunners a target to aim for. Fire and smoke rising from the ground as the bombs and incendiaries landed on an already battered city. It was ironic, she thought, that she had escaped any injury from all this for the past four months only to receive extreme violence at the hands of her husband, the very person that should be protecting her.
The bombs outside sounded very close, closer than normal, and she wondered what the target was tonight. They sounded like they were landing on the City. Could it be Westminster, she thought?
She turned her attention back to the box on the bed. There were bundles of letters tied together with ribbons and string. From the addresses on the top few she could see that they were correspondence between John and Georgina from both before the war and also during his time in the trenches of France and Belgium. She had left these alone as she thought these to be private and personal and only to be read by their son once he returned home, whenever that would be. But now she decided to have a quick glance at a couple of them. She took a couple from their envelopes and quickly scanned through them. One or two made reference to their previous lives together, before they had eloped and also made reference to Gregory. Victoria allowed herself a small wry smile. These letters proved that Gregory was in fact a Holbrook and that should he want to in the future, he could pursue a claim to the Baronetcy. She placed them back into their envelopes and returned them to the box.
Beneath the bundles of letters she found some more photographs. These showed John in uniform and there was also of one of the both of them together, taken at a seaside resort, probably on the south coast during a period of leave. Then she came across quite a large group photograph of three rows of soldiers. Written on the back was ‘Number 3 platoon, D Company, 12th Fusiliers, February 1917’. Seated at the front were two officers, one of whom wore a patch over his left eye and looked quite smart and dashing, she thought, and wondered if this was the man who had met with Georgina Cooke all those years ago to hand the box over to her. She scanned the photograph in search of John and found him on the back row near to the end. There was no mistaking who it was and she indulged herself a small smile in his memory as she touched his face with her finger. She was about to put the picture back in the box when another soldier caught her eye. He was on the second row below where John was positioned. There was something oddly familiar about him.
‘Eddie, can you take a look at this,’ she said.
Edwina, who had returned to the sink to fetch a fresh glass of water, returned. ‘Yes my dear, what is it?’
Victoria handed her the photograph. ‘That man on the second row, just below where John is. Third from the right. Who does he remind you of?’
Edwina’s eyes moved to the soldier in question. ‘Oh my God!’ she exclaimed, her face turning white. There was no mistake in her mind. She looked at Victoria and then back to the picture. ‘It’s that horrible man, Longworth. I’m sure of it.’
‘I think so too. It’s that weird smile and the gap between his teeth. He looks a lot younger, obviously, it was taken over twenty years ago after all. But there is no mistaking that it’s him.’
‘So what does this mean then?’
‘It can only mean one thing in my eyes. That he had something to do with John’s death. It’s just too coincidental.’
Edwina frowned nervously. ‘I’m very scared now Victoria. If that’s true, and it looks like it’s the only explanation, then it must also mean that your husband was involved as well.’
Victoria turned onto her side and made an attempt to sit up. Edwina leaned forward and arranged the pillows on the bed to give her some support and then assisted her gently until she was in a sitting position. Victoria grimaced with the pain but after a few moments she was able to settle into as comfortable a position as she could manage.
‘I wouldn’t put that past him,’ she replied eventually. ‘He was always jealous of his older brother and wanted the Baronetcy for himself. The ironic thing is that John didn’t really want it and would have been quite happy for Alexander to take it. It’s all been so unnecessary. If he finds out that we know about what happened then Christ alone knows how he will react. But it won’t be good.’
‘What should we do then?’
Victoria looked at her friend. ‘Firstly I’m going to make an entry in my journal and then I want you to find a safe place to hide all these things.’ She indicated the contents of the box. ‘Then we will get out of here to a hospital and take it from there. I can’t risk leaving here with the journal or John’s things in case he stops us and finds what we have.’
The all too familiar sound of German bombs hitting the streets and buildings carried loudly from outside. The crump-crump of the anti-aircraft guns added to the increasing din. ‘That sounds very close,’ said Edwina nervously, looking toward the blacked out window.
Victoria followed her gaze, a pen in her hand and the journal on her lap. ‘I will be as quick as I can. I don’t feel safe here tonight. If it’s not Alexander it’s the Germans. We need to get out of here.’ And then she added, ‘I hope everyone is fine downstairs.’
‘They’re two floors beneath us. I’m sure they will be fine in the cellar,’ responded Edwina. ‘They have probably missed all the commotion up here too. I think we are on our own, my love. It’s just us.’
Victoria was writing in the journal as fast as she could. She wanted to get what had happened on paper and in spite of the pain, she was able to work quickly attempting to put into words what had taken place that evening. Edwina did not speak to allow her to concentrate on the task, but occasionally looked over to ensure that she was not in too much discomfort. Whenever Victoria winced or adjusted herself with the pain in her side or in her face, Edwina felt a cold shiver run down her spine. She had an immense feeling of doom and no matter how hard she tried she could not get rid of the feeling that this night’s events were yet to be fully played out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Downstairs, Alexander sat in the sitting room in darkness. He had allowed his mind to go blank and he sat staring into space, oblivio
us to the air raid that was taking place outside. The thudding of the bombs landing on the city and the momentary flashes of light as the explosions and incendiaries hit nearby buildings did not disturb him from his reverie. As his mind started to clear, the effects of the alcohol wearing off due to the adrenalin that his body had produced, the events of the past couple of hours began to sink in and he realised the magnitude of what he had done. He put his head in his hands and let out a low moan.
Longworth, who was standing in the doorway observing his employer, put his hand to his mouth and coughed quietly to remind him that he was still there. Alexander took his hands away and looked over to him, his small frame silhouetted in the doorway against the light from a lamp in the hallway behind.
Alexander turned his head away and let out a long sigh.
‘Are you alright guv?’ asked Longworth. ‘You don’t quite seem yerself, like.’
Alexander looked at him again. ‘I’ll be fine Longworth,’ he said after a while. ‘Things just got a little out of hand, that’s all.’
‘You didn’t half give the lady a good kickin’.’
‘Well that’s as maybe,’ replied Alexander irritably. ‘It’s of no concern to you.’
After a while Alexander said, ‘I think she’s suspicious.’
‘About what?’
‘John….Cooke…..Arras.’
Longworth suddenly became more alert and stood up straight. ‘And how would she become suspicious of all that?’
Alexander looked at him, into his eyes. ‘The woman’s not stupid, you know. In fact she’s very perceptive.’
Longworth was starting to get aggravated. ‘You’ve not answered my question. I asked how she would become suspicious of all that. After twenty years. Have you said something?’
‘I think I may have said something when I lost my temper which she latched on to.’
Longworth threw his hands in the air. ‘I can’t believe this. For Christ’s sake…..Jesus!’ he half shouted.
Alexander stood up. ‘Keep your voice down you bloody idiot. Do you want everyone to hear you?….Bloody hell that sounded close.’
The room was shaken by a high explosive bomb that had landed what sounded dangerously nearby, causing Alexander to recoil slightly. Longworth did not move, his concentration and focus on the conversation and what Alexander was telling him.
‘I will not swing for this,’ he said coldly. ‘If they take me down then you’re coming with me.’
‘It’ll not come to that,’ replied Alexander. ‘We can sort this out.’
He looked into Longworth’s eyes and said calmly, quietly and menacingly, ‘Don’t you ever speak to me in such a way again. I will let it go this time because you are upset, but, believe me, do it again and I will not only kill you, I will make sure you suffer very much before you die.’
Longworth looked down. ‘But guv,’ he said, ‘this is very worrying for me. And it should be for you an’ all. What if she starts asking more questions? It could get very uncomfortable.’
‘Well then,’ said Alexander. ‘We’ll just have to make sure that it doesn’t come to that. The marriage is over now, let’s face it, there’s no going back from this. But I can’t have people thinking bad things about me. I will not be the talk of London or anywhere else for that matter.’
‘What do you have planned?’
‘We will have to sort it out and do it tonight. I need to be rid of that bastard son of John’s one way or the other and if he ever comes back to England then I have to give him no reason to ever come back here. Or if he does I have to send him the same way as his father.’
Longworth looked at him and smiled. Alexander shivered, his eyes drawn to the gap between his front teeth. Now that Alexander was starting to sober up, a plan was beginning to formulate in his brain. A plan that would sort everything out in his favour.
#
Upstairs Victoria had finished writing in the journal. She put down the pen and sighed, the sudden movement of the exhalation causing her to grimace in pain once more. ‘All done,’ she whispered weakly.
Edwina approached her and took away the journal from her hands, placing it on the bedside table at the side of her. ‘You need to rest a while before we go,’ she said.
‘No Eddie, we need to hurry. I don’t know where he is and he could come back at any time.’
Edwina took her hand. ‘Yes, my love, I suppose you’re right. We need to get out of here and to somewhere safe.’ She indicated to the window, where the blackout curtains covered the taped up pane of glass behind it. ‘Tonight’s raid sounds very close. We need to get out of the house or at least down to the cellar with the others.’
Victoria smiled weakly. ‘Yes. But I need you to do a little favour for me before we make our move.’
‘Whatever you want.’
‘Take the journal and all the letters and photographs from John’s box and hide them somewhere safe. Somewhere Alexander and that creepy Longworth won’t be able to find them. We will have to return for them at some later point because I can’t risk Alexander seeing us leave and taking them away from us.’
‘OK,’ said Edwina, ‘I’ll find somewhere safe. Maybe somewhere in the attic.’
‘Yes, that’s fine,’ said Victoria. The pain she was feeling was now becoming unbearable. She needed medication and for a doctor to take a look at her. She knew her nose was broken and at least two ribs. However, she was determined that the humiliation that Alexander had just put her through would not take over her emotions. She needed a clear head in order to get out of the house safely.
Edwina took the photographs from the frames and placed them on the bed in a neat pile with the letters and telegrams. She then put the journal on top of them and picked them all up. Clutching them to her chest she said, ‘I’ll be as quick as I can,’ and walked to the door.
‘That’s it, Eddie,’ whispered Victoria as she left the room, closing the door behind her. ‘Hurry back.’
Edwina hurried to the stairs that led to the upper floor, conscious that Alexander or Longworth could be anywhere in the house. Her heart racing, she ran up them and quickly found the door that led to further steps that would take her to the attic.
She entered the attic and looked around. A small dormer window allowed light from the activity outside to filter through, casting shadows around the room. She had only been in the room once before and it was much bigger than she remembered. The room was filled with of objects gathered over the years by both the current occupants and those that lived in the property before them. Rails of old clothes, hat boxes, various trunks and children’s toys from years gone by, all covered by years of dust, covered virtually the whole floor, leaving not much room in which to move.
Her eyes darted around the room, the occasional flash from the bombing outside lighting up the room further, making it easier to search for a place to hide the documents and photographs that she held tightly in her hands.
She considered putting them in one of the trunks or one of the hatboxes but quickly thought that should anyone find reason to come up to the attic they would see immediately a disturbance in the dust and so abandoned that idea. She moved further into the room, searching for a suitable location.
A high explosive bomb burst very close outside, causing her to flinch and she momentarily forgot the reason for being there and felt extremely scared. When she was outside in it, she felt she had more control but being inside and blind to where the bombs were dropping gave her a feeling of extreme vulnerability.
She walked to the dormer window and looked out. She could see fires burning in the near distance, and towards the river the buildings were bathed in what looked like a thick fog, making them only visible when the wind blew, revealing them to be broken and burning. The whole landscape of the capital was changing further tonight. Edwina shuddered and then thought to herself that it wasn’t the bombs outside that were causing the peril she was currently in, but the people of the very household she had served for years.
She continued further into the attic. After another minute her eyes were drawn to a child’s rocking horse that stood against the back wall. In its time, the toy would have been a handsome piece, obviously made with quality. Now it looked worn and shabby, the tail hanging limply, the fabric on the hind quarters rubbed to a shine and stuffing hung from the underside, where a large hole had been ripped. She appreciated that it would have one time been loved and cherished by the children of the household, but now it was very much unwanted and forgotten about.
She examined, as best she could, the hole in the underside and saw that it was big enough for the items to be placed inside. She knelt down and took out some of the stuffing then tried the journal to see if it would fit. It slid in easily and so she placed the letters and photographs in after it. When all the items were in the belly, she forced the stuffing back into the hole. She stood back and looked at it. Anyone coming into the room would have absolutely no idea what it contained and so she was satisfied that the items were safe. She turned around and walked to the door. She needed to get back to Victoria. They had to get away.
#
Downstairs in the bedroom, Victoria tried to get off the bed. The pain was terrible and her muscles were beginning to stiffen up. She swung her legs to the edge and sat up, gasping with the pain that now seemed to shoot through her whole body every time she moved.
Edwina had been gone nearly ten minutes and she was beginning to worry about her. Hopefully she would be back very soon and they could finally get away from this place. She had no idea where Alexander was and she was getting worried that he had stopped her and discovered their plans.
She attempted to stand but quickly sat back down again, the pain too much. She would have to wait for Edwina. She could not get out of the house without her aid.
Edwina, she thought, my beautiful, wonderful Eddie, who had sacrificed so much for her over the years. Never complaining, always offering a smile and a kind word whenever it was needed. She was eternally grateful for having this woman in her life, to look out for her, to nurse her, to be her confidante and, more importantly, to be her friend.